The Book of Tom Marvolo Riddle
by SaintNicolas
Summary: Book 1 Over. Book 2: Magic at Work. The King is Dead; long live the King! Having overthrown his predecessor, Tom Marvolo Riddle - or should he say Thomas Flammel? - didn't know what could stop him. No mortal foe could defeat him, and even the Gods feared him; for the God of Death refused to reap his soul. Maybe he should have been more careful; there's Magic at work, after all...
1. TMR - Chapter 1 : The Diary

Chapter 1: Tom Marvolo Riddle - Year 2

Diary entry 1

Through eons of accumulated knowledge, I drift, amidst tomes of ancient lore and arcane bewitchments. My 'gaze' - projected through vistas of ether, framed by leather and wrapped in the smell of old parchment - is seemingly empty. My mind, however, remains as sharp as a knife. I'm waiting. Waiting for the poor unfortunate soul who will, unbeknownst to them, grant me my body back. So what if they are doomed on the altar of my resurrection?

Diary entry 2

- Some time later -

I would have opened my eyes blearily, if I possessed such. A distorted light comes into view, which is a strange concept for a disincarnated soul. I hear a voice; but it is gibberish. I try to focus on it, but I lose track. It is like pursuing a wisp, a ghost. I lose the source. I think it was a female speaking, though I could not predict their age. No matter; time is not of the essence.

Diary entry 3

- Some time later -

Again this voice. It is grating on my nerves. It is juvenile, that I am sure of. Maybe 13 years old, who knows? The good thing is, the owner seems to be receptive to my 'writing'. I learn a little more each day about the current world. More than fifty years have passed since my imprisonment. Voldemort has failed it seems. It is quite vexing.

Diary entry 4

- Some time later -

Now I know where I erred in the shaping of my new identity. It never was a good idea to split the soul more than once. There were other paths toward immortality, one of which Dumbledore and his little minion discovered. I will become immortal again, but not through Horcruxes. Nothing is impossible for Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Diary entry 5

- Some time later -

Poor, poor Ginny. She lies on her back, her arms spread eagle. It reminds me of a biblical scene. The crucifixion. Jesus died for Our sins; Ginny died for Mine. Such a shame. Her pallor is squalid. Sweat is glistening on her forehead; pooling then drifting across her ashen cheeks, her purple lips, her quivering neck. It flows like the River Styx, it leaves her sluggishly, washing away her life force. Such a shame too; she would have been a fine witch.

End diary.

Tom Marvolo Riddle flexed his muscles. What a blessing it was, to own again what was once his. Like a parent finding his lost child, his mind was overflowing with bliss. The cold dampness of the dungeon hit his bare feet and he dug his heel in the crevice formed by the hewn stones to test his footing. He calls out to his pet; the pet responds with a sibilant 'Master'. Good, good. Now he has to lie in wait. Does he try to impersonate late Ginny? No; he does not know her habits. He would have been found out. Now that he thinks about the matter, Ginny told him of a student who disappeared in the forbidden forest some time ago. He would use the passageway leading to the forest and take his spot. It would be adequate.

- Some time later-

It was harder than he thought to fit in. His speech patterns were off for this era. The fact that the spirited away student was from an aristocratic background justified his 'posh' accent. Thomas Flamel; a very distant relative to the famous alchemist. Dumbledore of course was suspicious - he always was. One does not simply change his attitude and speech patterns in the span of a day. No matter; the old fool would die, eventually. Time still was not of the essence.

He walked toward the transfiguration classroom. He sat down next to a girl. Her name was Hannah, he thinks, the last scion of the Abbott family. How the mighty have fallen. In the 1950's they were few but fierce warrior, renowned for their prowess on the field. Now it seems like a pale imitation drawn by an amateur. The will was there but the fact remains that she is a failure.

"Hello Hannah," Tom says pleasantly.

She smiles shyly; after all he is quite handsome if he were to be perfectly honest, though less so than in his true form.

"Hi Tom, slept well?" She answers. He sneers mentally; can she not formulate proper sentences?

"Quite well, actually. I had a happy dream."

"Really? Care to tell?" She leans in.

"Students, settle down. Today we learn of a wonderful, and quite handy spell; the rabbit slippers! Come now, come now, try it now. The incantation is 'Cuniculus Solea Volo'! Wand movement is a clockwise turn then a downward swish! 10 points to the first who succeeds!"

Motivated by the prospect of points, the students try zealously to transform the poor rabbits into wear, only to fail miserably. He nearly snickers when his neighbor fails, a fluff of feathers peppering her coat.

He does not need a wand, but uses it for he needs to lie in wait. He waves his wand into a slightly more complex pattern than the one Minerva uses. She always was good at transfiguration - No, not good; excellent - but he was simply better.

The rabbits turn into a pair of slippers.

"10 points to Ravenclaw! But! Oh my! Did the slippers just wink at me?" She removes her glasses and comes closer in order to inspect the offending item.

Indeed, a pair of eyes stand perched atop each shoe.

"Incredible. Mister Flamel, could you explain to the class how you managed such a feat?"

He mulls the answer carefully, weighing the pros and cons. It would be futile to lie. He smiles demurely.

"Professor, I've turned the wand counterclockwise, in order to signify the rupture of the flow of life, then a diagonal swish, in order to banish, to confine. Then the usual clockwise and downward swish to turn the rabbit into slippers."

Throughout the whole explanation she stays attentive, her eyes slightly narrowed. Then her eyebrows rise to her hairline. She is clearly impressed.

"30 points to Ravenclaw!"

The ravens clap quietly, clearly impressed and proud of their housemate.

"I could have done the same..." Hermione Granger mutters angrily, though she recognizes it is more out of competitiveness than any real venom.

"Yes you could, 'Mione" Harry Potter answers, laughing quietly at the put off face of his best female mate.

"Cunicilus Volo!" The scion of the Weasley intones.

It is a wonder how he managed to transform his pen into a mammal.

- Some time later -

He is walking in a corridor. It is a free period; he would like to expand his knowledge by going to the library. In fifty years, a lot has changed, and he still has immortality to achieve.

He bumps into a bush at the entrance of the library. They both fall to the ground on their bum. He nearly snarls, but remembers his role and that he is to dignified to do such plebeian activity.

"I apologize Miss Granger, I was not cautious when I was walking to the library. I was clearly not expecting to bump into anyone!" He apologizes, and she misses the subtle undertones of mockery in his voice.

"Oh, no problem! I was not looking either actually" A blush adorns her cheeks.

He rolls on his back, then springs forward, leaping to his feet. He holds her hand and helps her to get up.

"I've done some sports," He says at her inquisitive and slightly impressed glance.

"Oh, right," She says as they push through an invisible throng of students that their mind conjures in orders to refute the proof of Hogwarts' students lacking interest in reading material.

It is only a coincidence that they head to the section called "The virtues of Magical Creatures". It also is a coincidence that they pick up the same book, 'Nicholas Flamel's 10 precepts'. Their hands brush. He should have been disgusted at the contact. He isn't prejudiced against Muggleborns; it would have been quite hypocritical of him. He simply used it to manipulate the Purebloods, like he manipulated the teachers and the World.

She blushes, he shivers. One in shame/other, him in excitation/other. He hopes the unknown factor isn't arousal. It is a peculiar behavior; one he would have to study at a later date.

"You wanted to work on this book?" He asked, surprised. The real message was 'Can you not let me peruse this highly interesting - and out of your intellectual reach - book, you insufferable know-it-all?'

"Yes, actually I was doing an essay that I have to hand out tomorrow on the virtues of Phoenix tears; and it is true that Nicholas Flamel and Albus Dubledore are the foremost masters in the studies of phoenixes; you know as well as I do that Dumbledore has discovered the 7 virtues of Phoenix tears and 12 of Dragon Blood."

Merlin, does she ever stops? His smile is more strained, though it is imperceptible to the amateur.

"Yes? Quite impressive if I do say so myself. I was also doing an essay on the curative wonders incurred by the use of Phoenix Tears. There was also a theory on this; that by combining it to Basilisk Venom, you could -"

"It is not possible!" She interrupts him. He nearly curses her into oblivion, "Maxwell's laws on physical conservation and Ignatius Maximus'es on magical conservation state that you cannot compound two opposite magical component."

"Laws which are denied vehemently by Rowena Ravenclaw," He finishes with a smile, leaving her floored.

"Good evening miss Granger," He says pleasantly. His wand thrums with power, asking to curse someone. 'Soon' he hisses in his head. The wand is pleased, the owner more so.

- Some time later -

"Vespertilio Caeni!" His prey shouts, hurling a spell at him. Tom's wand is in his pocket. The students gasp.

He waves his right arm, from the hip up into a Roman salute. His hand in encased in blue. He did not speak.

The spell hits the hand, then is sent back twice as fast at his opponent. The foolish boy dives in order to avoid it.

"Bombarda Maxima - Confringo - Protego Totalum - Protago Totalum" He speaks, waving his wandless hand in complex patterns. He did not need to speak, but he did so to avoid rousing suspicions.

Two powerful blue barriers encircle his opponent and the room respectively. The Bombarda and Confringo join in a red and purple miasma of unadulterated power. It hits the shield. He is quite confident that, were it not for the shield, everybody in the room would have been obliterated by the magical equivalent to a block of C4. He would not have been alive to remark it either.

Oh well. Next year would prove more challenging perhaps?

Chapter 1 - End.

Edit 17/01/15: Corrected spelling and grammar mistakes.

Don't hesitate to rate and review, I don't bite ;)


	2. Chapter 2 - Socializing

Hello everybody, welcome to the second chapter. A warning; there are a lot of double entendre when Tom speaks / thinks. So sometimes what he says is related to the previous line. Voila! Tom (Thomas Flamel impersonation) is 13. Without further ado;

Chapter 2 - Tom Marvolo Riddle - Socializing

He has found the foolish boy. Thomas Flamel. Well-spoken lad he was, not great in power but knowledgeable nonetheless. He was nonplussed at having to kill him, but alas, such was the price of his existence. The burden lifted from his shoulder, Nicholas Flamel's grandnephew will live a peaceful afterlife in Heaven. He would not join him later of course, for he planned to be immortal.

Legilimency told him quite a bit about Flamel. Now he can impersonate him perfectly. The day following Thomas' death, Dumbledore summons him. It is as if he knew of the events that unfolded. Tom knocks on the door.

"Professor," he says respectfully as he enters, "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, yes," the venerable man answers hastily, "Lemon drop?" he asks as always. Tom suspects he drugs the food with Veritaserum; that's the only reasonable explanation. One cannot be that much of a sugar addict.

"I have been concerned about your results..."

Tom's eyebrows rise in genuine surprise. His grades were perfect. He was the brightest student of Hogwarts, and of the World, period.

"I do not understand, I thought my grades were good."

"Oh not that way!" The most powerful wizard in the world waves his hand, "My mind ponders contrary-wise, and forces me to wonder; how did you manage it? I know you are a bright young wizard, but your knowledge base rose by leaps and bonds in the span of a year..."

His eyes are narrowed as he leans forward, "Do you have a reasonable explanation?"

Tom bites his lip, feigning hesitation. Upon seeing his Headmaster's stern look, he says the 'truth':

"I sneaked in the restricted section. Professor Flitwick gave me the permission," It was true that he did so; that he did so unwillingly is only a detail.

His piercing blue eyes go straight through the barriers of his mind. Must not lower the eyes; he shan't suspect foul play that way. Tom conjures images that he has seen inside Thomas' Flamel's mind. It is genuine memories, so Dumbledore has no reason to suspect it. If he were to dig deeper, he would see that there is a diopter; as if there was a magnifying glass between the memory and the beholder.

"Professor?" Tom asks, feigning boredom. It breaks Dumbledore's concentration. In between the two moments, he catches a glimpse of the man's thoughts. He hears the words "Nicholas" and "Ariana". Most peculiar.

A forlorn look is etched on the centenary man's face. He sighs deeply, and he looks twice his age. Merlin, was he always that old? Tom's memories are hazy.

"You may go if you wish, and say hello to your granduncle when you see him," He is lost in his thoughts. He seems so frail. Just a two-word spell, a green flash, and eternal peace.

"Without fail," Tom bows his head, then takes his leave.

* * *

><p>"He's an interesting fella, this Tom, no?" Ronald Weasly asks his two friends as he stuffs his face with cheese, ignoring Hermione's disgusted expression.<p>

"Ronald Weasley! I told you a hundred times not to eat that way!"

"He is sociable, that's true," Harry nods. The brunette was talking to three Ravenclaw classmates.

"I think that's fishy," Ron nods sagely.

"Nonsense" Hermione rebuts, "Discussing is a common practice to develop one's social skills. Furthermore..." The boys tuned the rest out.

"You think we should speak to him?" The bespectacled boy asks.

Ron nods pensively. Tom has just finished speaking with two ravens and one snake. Something is not right. It's related to what his father told him. The only guy who socialized with everybody was... He can't put his finger on it!

"You think Voldemort will come back this year too?" Harry asks jokingly. He is amused when Ron jumps.

"Don't say his name!" He hisses angrily.

Harry laughs.

* * *

><p>"Hey Tom!" Harry says, walking to the boy's level. He was walking with Hannah Abbott. Tom asks her to leave gently.<p>

"Hello Mister Potter, may I help you?" Tom asks demurely.

"Call me Harry. Here's Ron," He points to the redhead, "And Hermione."

Tom bows his head, and when he meets the only girl of the group, his right eyebrow rises.

"We've already met, I believe?"

"Yes," she blushes as she remembers the awkward encounter. Harry and Ron exchange a glance, eyebrows raised.

"My name is Thomas Flamel. I am glad to make your acquaintance." Tom introduces himself formally.

"Don't be so formal mate!" Ron says, patting his arm amicably. He is only lucky he does not lose it.

"Are you related to...?" Hermione asks, eyes wide and excitement bubbling. Tom only nods.

"To whom?" Harry asks, confusion the only thing present in his mind.

"You don't know?!" Hermione asks/demands.

"Mate, even I know about it..." Ron is as surprised as Hermione.

"To whom!?" Harry asks exasperated.

"Nicholas Flamel, the inventor of-" Says Hermione.

"The Elixir of Life," interrupts Tom, the same way she interrupted him a year ago. He can hold grudges. "Nicholas Flamel is my granduncle." He finishes.

"Oh! Then do you know how..." Hermione asks. Merlin, she looks like she would pop if you were to pierce her skin with a pin. Or stab her with a wand.

"Sorry, it is a secret so well kept only two people in the world know about it. My granduncle and..." A little pause for suspense. "Professor Dumbledore." He nearly laughs at the crestfallen looks on the three's youngling's faces.

"I am sorry, I must be going. I hope we will stay in good terms, Harry, Ron, Hermione," He shakes their hands warmly.

"Sorry for taking your time, maybe we could hang out together, I recon you play Quidditch?" Harry asks.

"Of course. Just an advice; if we ever play together, I'm going to beat you," 'To the ground, then bury your smoldering corpse. Beaten by an infant; preposterous!'.

"You bet!" Harry laughs.

He turns on his heel after a few more pleasantry exchanged.

"He's not so bad," He hears nearly out of his hearing range.

"Yeah..."

A sinful smile blooms on his face.

Humans... So easily manipulated.

That's why he had to be _more_.

His eyes flash crimson.

Chapter 2 - End

Voila chapter 2! A little fast, but it's gonna go that way until chapter 5 (Year 6), where things will heat up literally.

Cheers!


	3. Chapter 3 - Samhain

Warning: Chapter rated M for intense torture. You are warned.

Tom Marvolo Riddle - Chapter 3 - Samhain

The Heavens open and poured their content onto the muddy Earth. Thunder is roaring, lightning striking the soil at odd intervals. The wails of the dead counterpoint the wails of the living. Samhain has come. The fragile balance of the dead and living is respected; for one night at least.

A cloaked figure walks silently; a wraith reaping its prize. It takes out its wand and the balance is broken.

* * *

><p>Nicholas Flamel is a proud man. At the ripe age of six hundred and sixty, he is living a happy life with his wife, Pernelle. His great-great-great-great-great-grand-well-you-get-it-nephew -abbreviated grandnephew - is going to the Premier European Wizarding School, Hogwarts, under the tutelage of none other than his longtime friend, Albus Dumbledore.<p>

His wife is preparing supper in the kitchen, and he is reading a newspaper in his chair next to the softly cracking fire.

"Pernelle, do you know what the ICW is preparing for Samhain?" He asks.

"I do not know. However, I know what I'm preparing for you tomorrow!"

"Oh, and what day is it tomorrow?"

"Oh, you silly goose, tomorrow is your birthday! Tom is coming here to the party!"

"Oh, Tom! Really bright lad, I've heard good echoes from Albus; he is the most gifted student of Hogwart's history!"

- Knock knock -

"Oh my! You will scare these old bones into an early grave!" His wife answers playfully

"Don't count on it for the next century!"

- Knock -

"Yes?!"

"It is I, Tom," A muffled voice comes from the other side.

"Tom! We were not expecting you tonight!" Nicholas says as he opens the door, revealing none other than his favorite grandnephew.

Tom hugs him, and he returns it.

"You must be drenched! It was a true downpour! Come, come, warm up," Nicholas says as he takes his cloak to hang.

He does not notice Tom's eyes turning crimson with greed.

"Do not worry, I'm already warmed up..." He says as he whips out his wand and points it at his back.

Nicholas sighs deeply.

"Boy, put this wand down if you don't want me to hurt you," Nicholas says with his back turned toward Tom. The fire dances in front of him, casting shadow onto the crimson-eyed figure behind him.

A chilly laugh rings in the room.

"Is everything alright?" Pernelle asks from the kitchen.

"Everything is alright dear, Tom and I are simply catching up!" He answers a little more forcefully than usual.

"Oh, I see! I'll come see him later,"

Nicholas grits his teeth. He could feel the magical power thundering behind him. It was inconceivable for a 14 years old. He had the magical presence of Albus Dumbledore. Struggling would be futile, but he'd be damned if he didn't try. The Reaper wards off the sounds.

"Protego Horiblis" Nicholas shouts as the figure casts silently a Bombarda Maxima - Confringo combination. The impact is deafening. Everything is incinerated in the room, minus the two occupants.

"Crucio - Crucio - Accio 'Entrails'"

Nicholas avoids the first Crucio, the second hits his leg. The pain the pain the PAIN the pain the PAIN THE PAIN THE PAIN!

He shouts and scream at the ungodly, overbearing, excruciating pain his body is submitted to. This is not a normal Crucio, he thinks in a bout of lucidity before being lost in a sea of hurt.

And it wasn't. It is an improved version, thought out by the brightest wizard ever after 50 years of mulling.

Slowly, Nicholas' stomach split open and a dark red mass is slithering out of his belly. By now the man is barely conscious. The torture stops, and everything is sewed back together.

The alchemist is delirious with pain. Had he imagined it? There is a scar; it was real.

"Where is the Tablet of Life?" Tom asks.

Flamel had to school his features through the pain in order to remain impassive.

"I have no idea what you're talking about..."

"Oh, I think you know perfectly well what I'm talking about. Accio Pernelle!" With a burst of magic, Flamel's wife came flying through the door, breaking it and getting stabbed by hundreds of shrapnels.

"Pernelle! No!"

"What is going on?" She moans through the pain as she sees her husband and grandnephew-in-law fighting.

"I don't know what you're talking about, let my wife go!"

A hearty chuckle rang hollowly in the vast living room.

"You see, there is a disease called Cluster Headache. It is a neurological disorder engineering a pain so intense it is considered inhumane," Upon seeing the pair's lost look, he said sharply, "Here's an example: Algia!" A sickly purple light came flying out of his wand into Pernelle.

The scream was so shrill it made the room vibrate. She stayed conscious for ten seconds before collapsing.

"Pernelle!"

"Ennervate!" Tom shouted.

She woke up gasping, clutching at her head. She coughed as Tom resumed his explanation.

"I've pondered and pondered; this spell is not satisfactory. The pain is not sharp enough."

"What kind of monster..."

"Crucio!" More convulsing, "Now if I may resume the explanation, I've made a spin off. Since the realm of physical pain has limits, I've decided to explore farther along the realm of magical pain. And here is my masterpiece. It is called 'Algia Rosa'. Here's a demonstration..." Tom pointed his want to Nicholas Flamel.

"Algia Rosa!" He retracted his wand and thrust it sharply forward. A black goo came shooting out of the wand too fast to react. A white Rose sprouted from his chest, the roots digging in his heart, eliciting a gasp from Nicholas and a shout from his wife.

"You see, this Rose's color will change according to your pain levels. The redder the color, the more unbearable the pain. It goes that way; white, pink, red, purple, black. Red is worse than algia... I advise you to answer before that. Where is the tablet of life?"

"You scum! Even if you torture me into insanity, you'll never know of its location!"

"We'll see" Tom answered, his eyes flashing.

"Crucio Horiblis!" The rose turned dark pink, bordering on red.

"Crucio! Enervate! Crucio Horiblis! Enervate Maxima! Crucio Maxima!" The spells came flying out of his wand. The man hung tight between consciousness and rest. The rose turned red.

"Cruor Potestas Est! Accio Sangui!" Blood came pouring out of every pore of his skin. The rose turned purple. Nicholas was too far gone to speak.

"Curatio!" A gentle green beam healed the bleeding man.

"You still won't speak?" A glance was enough to tell him he wouldn't, "That's a shame."

"Algia Rosa!" This time it was a rose sprouting out of Pernelle's chest.

"Lex Sanguini! Accio Entrails! Algia!"

The spells hit Pernelle. Under Thomas' frightened eyes, her skin bulged and ruptured. The rose turned black.

"Stop! I'll tell you!"

Tom lifted his wand a split second before the entrails came flying out of Pernelle's guts.

"I'll tell you!" Warm tears flowed out of his eyes.

"That is what I wanted to hear..." Tom hissed.

* * *

><p><em>'Cruelty beyond Imagination! Famous alchemist Nicholas Flamel and his wife crucified alive! Death Eater Mulciber under heavy suspicions!<em>' Titled the Daily Prophet the next day.

"That is what I call a job well done," Tom Marvolo Riddle muttered, fingering a reduced version of the ancient Tablet of Life.

A pair of crimson eyes blazed with power.

Chapter 3 - The End.


	4. Chapter 4 - Union

_Forewarning: It is a very short chapter; the format is a book chapter, so think of it as the fourth chapter of the first tome. Enjoy! And to answer my dear (and sole :p) reviewer, yes Hermione will be suspicious, though not right now... well, you'll see._

**Tom Marvolo Riddle - Chapter 4 : Union (Part 1)**

It is a multicolored prism of ethereal reality, wrapped in pain and joy, bliss and grief.

'Not Harry! Not Harry please!' Wails.

'Stand aside, you silly girl... Stand aside now.' Hisses.

'Not Harry!' Pleading; begigng.

'Avada Kedavra!' Silence.

The prism shifts, casting another range of color into Tom's awareness.

'You've been taught how to duel, I presume? First we bow to each other.' Mockery.

'Come now, Harry, the niceties must be observed. Dumbledore would not want you to forget your manners. I said, "Bow."'. Taunts.

'Crucio!' Bliss.

Tom wakes up with a start. A quick Tempus tells him he woke up before sunrise. He decides to take a stroll in the corridors, rules be damned. His forehead is damp with cold sweat.

Shaky legs takes him through ancient corridors, forgotten passageways, cobweb-infested rooms. He does not care; his mind is empty. It is taking him someplace. He ignores where, but the pull is too sweet and strong to resist.

He enunciates words foreign to his brain, but it still manages to make perfect sense. It is as if he sees himself coming, while seeing himself going. It makes no sense; that's why it's so logical.

He is climbing stairs, heading up up up, always up. It is a common room, his brain supplies, but he still is under a daze so he can't recognize which one exactly it is. He hopes against hope that it is his.

Rows of beds are arranged next to the walls, he climbs on one. Dragging the cover, he slips inside. There is a mass of heat he recognizes as a person inside the warm covers. He slithers next to it, then settles. Tantalizing lips are parted, the color pink as fleshly sins. He leans forward and seals their lips in a kiss. Then he is sucking.

He expects to suck a soul; a part of a soul to be exact. He is sure that it is his Horcrux; the Potter boy. A shocked gasp tells him it is not the case.

The charm breaks and he is confronted to a very much awake, confused and angry Hermione Granger.

A silent compulsion spell relaxes her body and mind, leaving her more open to dialogue.

"Hello Hermione," He nearly slips into Parseltongue. What the hell is happening to his body? He shouldn't be losing control.

"Hi Tom," She answers hotly. Her mind tells her that it is Oh so wrong, her body tells her that it is Oh so right.

"I could not sleep." Is an explanation necessary? Of course not. Then why does Tom supply it?

"Is it related to...?" She asks. It is an old wound, she knows, but Ron also has been depressed ever since Ginny's mysterious disappearance. They were still hoping that they would find her someday, but with each passing season, their hopes were dimming.

"I'd rather not speak about it..." His arms coil and encircle her. Damn hormones, why must it be so hard to slip away?

"It's alright," She says, and it was.

They spend the night that way; in each other's embrace, seeking comfort.

Curiously, Tom's soul seems to be soothed by it.

'Soon' A foul, malevolent presence forebodes.

What is coming soon?

Only Merlin knows.

Perhaps Death is not the last enemy that shall be vanquished?

Chapter 4 - End.


	5. Chapter 5 - A Crown for a King

Warning - lime (very light erotica) at the end, ye be warned.

Chapter 5 : A Crown for a King.

It came, swift and stark as a North wind, striking the room's tranquilly dining students and teachers body.

A head in a severe state of decomposition appeared in the middle of the Raven's table. Right next to one Thomas Flamel to be exact. Its mouth, crawling with maggots, opened, revealing a putrid miasma of bugs and filth.

"Give it to them Tom," It spoke with a voice Dumbledore and Tom knew all too well, "The thing I once gave to you, it is His now."

Tom was too shell shocked to answer. He muttered things under his breath, rocking back and forth at the proof of his granduncle's death just under his eyes.

Tears of blood ran out of one of the decrepit head's remaining eye; a pinkish/black goo sluggishly spurting from the hole where its right eye should have been.

"Crucio," it intoned.

"No!" Dumbledore shouted, getting up, throwing spell after spell to stop it; to no avail.

Thomas jerked as the spell hit him full force, propelling him a few meters backwards. Everybody could see his squirming on the ground, his moves jerky. He was biting hard to stop himself from shrieking. The pain was too much after a full minute of curse; rendering the poor lad unconscious.

"Sectum Sempra!" A dark voice hissed angrily. The Potions Master Emeritus, Severus Snape, was not happy.

The head split open, then again and again, until only a few strands of skin was holding the structure of the head together. Until gravity did its sordid deed, and the skull opened like a foul lotus, inviting the students nearer to it to pass out and throw up, from the horrid smell and vision combination.

Tom Flamel was in a state of shock; physical and mental. He was passed out thankfully, so he didn't have to see the head of his relative split open like a too ripe fruit.

He was brought to Saint Mungo as fast as humanly possible.

* * *

><p>"Albus, what was the meanin' of it?" A very concerned Minerva McGonnagall asked, her accent seeping into her voice at the state of aggravation she was in.<p>

"Unthinkable! To think someone would dare transgress the Pact! That's Necromancy! The boundaries of Life and Death are not meant to be played with."

"It's Voldemort, it can't be anyone other than that. It resisted Albus' spells."

"Order!" Dumbledore shouted, bringing forth a glacial silence immediately.

"I know the situation is dire, but we must think of the students before everything. I want every student to be inspected thoroughly; there had to be help from the inside to smuggle the head in," He nodded to Professor Snape in particular, since there were good chances the offender was from the House of Slytherin.

"I refuse to believe such a barbarous and uncivilized act was committed with no foreknowledge of mine," Severus sneered, then left the premises, his dark robe undulating behind him.

"Albus, tell me it isn't related to _it_."

"I'm afraid it might very well be." Dumbledore ended somberly, eliciting a dark mood amongst the teathers.

* * *

><p>In the dark of the night, Tom moved stealthily toward the consigned documents of Saint Mungo. He had to find out about this 'Ariana' person Dumbledore thought so much about when he thought nobody was seeing him. Or reading his mind to be more exact.<p>

One thing caught his attention when he passed by the resting room. A certain someone to be precise. Lord Voldemort was standing in all his glory, holding his bone white wand airily, tapping the end to his other arm.

"To think I would have the honor of meeting Lord Voldemort, I would have been foolish to refuse this chance..." A high and cold voice spoke mockingly.

"You are Lord Voldemort,"

"As are you. Do tell me boy, how did you manage to be free of your bonds, and why have you come back when Lord Voldemort is born anew?"

"I like hearing myself speak so much," Tom began sarcastically. Were it anybody else, Lord Voldemort would have cursed them into oblivion. Now he was only amused, his red eyes shining in greed, "The bonds were meant to be broken; that is how We designed it in the first place. 'Tenebrae liberari non possunt si non sit voluntas'. That's the maxim We created, if you were to recall."

"You foolish boy," Voldemort hissed somewhat endearingly, striding forward elegantly. His bony finger curled under Tom's shin, raising his head to meet twin crimson jewels, "Ego sum qui consumit tenebrae. Quia, Novissima autem inimica destruetur Mors."

"Tecum sentio," Tom smiled candidly, a total opposite of Voldemort's manic one.

"I have a present for you..." Tom retrieved a vial from his pants pocket.

He watched as Voldemort's eyes widened when he laid eyes on the one and only elixir of life.

"How?" The Dark Lord asked, entranced as the liquid of life bubbled inside the vial.

"Alchemy." And this answer contained everything Voldemort needed to know.

A cackle filled the room. Oh, this was too good to be true.

"There must be a catch," Voldemort's eyes narrowed on his younger self.

"I need a task force of a hundred, who will lay their life down when necessary. A hundred strong men and women, 5 of the inner, 30 of the outer, and the rest of the outermost,"

"That, Childe, is a bold request to make. How will I know it isn't poison you are giving me, and why, if it isn't, shan't I be taking it from you?"

Tom took one gulp of it, shivering as the effects hit him. Under Voldemort's all-consuming greed, his body got more defined, more toned, more juvenile and more ancient at the same time. There was no doubt, it was the elixir of life.

"And the reason why you can't take it is this," The liquid turned black under Voldemort's watchful eyes, before turning red once again.

"Ingenious,"

"You were the one to invent that spell."

"Very well. You shall have it. I shall send a messenger to your location."

"Malfoys were always such trained pets..." Tom recalled fondly.

"Qualis pater talis filius."

"Qualis mens talis filius?"

Voldemort's high chuckle was heard throughout the ward, chilling the patients to the bone.

* * *

><p>There was something bothering Hermione. It looked like a puzzle had been completed, but the pieces and the way they fit were uncanny. It was like speaking fluently a foreign tongue.<p>

"You're doing the spell wrong. It is 'Filius FIlis', not 'File in Filly'" Hemione snapped.

"You don't have to be so aggressive about it!" Ron bristled.

"If you are too dimwitted to repeat a sentence a teacher enunciated clearly, you are obviously not fit to be a wizard." She tried to stop it but the words were flowing from her mouth. It was like she was bewitched. She had checked though; she wasn't.

Ron's face matched his hair, he shook quietly, then stormed out of the room, hitting the wall on the way out.

"Ron, wait!" Harry called after him, running. He cast a glance at Hermione, to tell her he understood, since she had been that way for the past week, then ran after the Weasley scion.

'Good, you don't need them!'

"Of course I need them." Hermione shook her head.

'Does anybody think of me as anything else than an annoying know-it-all amongst them all?'

"Well it's... true... that sometime I can be a little annoying, but! But there must be someone who doesn't see it that way! Harry for instance,"

'Always look at me a little annoyed when I give the answer even though he had his hand raised. Ron, who can't comprehend the questions, is jealous when I give detailed answers.'

"They are still good friends!" She shook her head, convinced.

'But they don't see me as such. To them I was only the little bookworm they had to help out of the solitary confinement I was in out of charity and good will. There is still someone who doesn't see me that way though.'

And her mind conjured images of a boy. Not boy now, young man. From the first time she bumped into him at the library, to the time he slithered into her bed and they held each other. A healthy blush colored her cheeks at the conjured image. Little did she know that another person had the exact same train of thoughts at the exact same time.

"Students, regain your dorms immediately; complete lockdown!"

Lockdown?

"Death Eaters have been spotted in the vicinity of the Great Hall. Flee on sight, do not engage unless absolutely necessary to your survival."

Death Eaters...? That must have been a bad joke. Harry and Ron! She ran like Cerberus was snapping at her feet. On her way out she saw a Death Eater pair approaching a lone student, but she didn't stop to help him. Why didn't she? The question would torment her later, leading her to many sleepless nights. But right now she didn't care; her friends were in danger.

The scene in the Great Hall was taken out of Saint Jean's Apocalypse.

Death Eaters of the inner circle were dueling with the professors. Outer circle were dueling with Seventh Year students, and the outermost was enjoying cursing the poor first and second years unlucky enough not to be in their dorm. The situation was dire...

In the center of the Great Hall were two monoliths of power. Dumbledore stood very still as a rejuvenated Lord Voldemort - for this tainted aura could belong to none other - tapped his chin with his yew wand.

He raised his hand, and every Death Eater in the room dropped to one knee, one of them being hit by a stray spell.

"Albus Dumbledore."

"Tom,"

His eyes widened in rage and madness, before calming down considerably.

"You always were good at getting a rise out of me. No matter, no matter. I shall take back what is due to me. Your life. Why don't you remove this glove? It must be bothering you, restraining your moves..." Twin mocking rubies laughed at Dumbledore.

The situation was dire indeed.

"How did you know?"

"I can feel it... The taint, most exquisite of them all; the taint of Death. However, I believe we have to begin soon, I must admit that I cannot wait to reap my prize. Avada Kedavra."

Voldemort sent the green flash of death Dumbledore's way. The venerable man sidestepped it and sent back one of his nastier curses, which Voldemort parried with a diagonal swing of his hand into a Roman salute.

"Resorting to the darker spectrum of the Dark Arts, now, are we? Ah, I nearly forgot that you colluded with Grindelwald once in your foolish youth. For the 'Greater Good', of course."

Dumbledore's grip grew tighter on his wand, his cursed hand sending him flares of pain. He used lighter curses and hexes, then threw an Unforgivable.

"Ah, now I recognize the sly man you always were under that benevolent façade of yours," Lord Voldemort said, the hand which wasn't holding his wand, sneakily sliding behind his back. He would send a wandless, silent spell. Dumbledore was prepared.

"Is this what poor Ariana would have wanted? Seeing her beloved brother, using on his mortal foe spells which took her life? Tell me, how did you feel when your Avada Kedavra hit her square in the chest? When she took the spell aimed at your Dark lover?"

Dumbledore's world crumbled around him, the only thing holding him grounded, his sanity, evaporating. His wand dropped from his slack hand.

"Ariana," He muttered. He was disoriented. The curse plaguing him, his past clouding his mind, the age weakening him, the tortured Hogwarts students hurting his soul.

A green spell hit him in the chest. He could see Tom's eyes gleam, his handsome face contorted into a nasty veneer of foul glee, before his life faded. 'Ariana... Forgive me...'.

Minerva couldn't believe her eyes. The last beacon of light, shining brighter than the Sirius star, extinguished in a flash of light by the ugliest monster sired by the Earth.

"I believe that is mine, now..." Lord Voldemort strode forward, picking up the Elder Wand, feeling it thrum with power.

He only cast a passing glance at the corpse of Albus Dumbledore, his greatest foe - and fear - though he felt that the victory was unsatisfactory. No matter...

His followers were in adoration as he made a throne appear in the middle of a raised dais in the Great Hall. He transfigured his yew wand into a bone white crown and put it atop his dark hair.

With a pulse of magic, everybody standing was forced into a kneeling position.

He now reigned supreme in Hogwarts, Magical Britain, and the World.

* * *

><p>"'Mione, wait!" Harry called.<p>

"Hogwarts has fallen, you've seen it with your own eyes!"

"We don't know for sure," Ron huffed

"You've seen the Unforgivable hit Professor Dumbledore," Tears were leaking out of her eyes.

"What do we do now?" Ron asked, his expression somber.

"Now we're finding the Founders' artifacts..." Harry put in.

"Artifacts? How will that help?" Said Hermione. A horrible thought went through her head.

"Harry, Saint Mungo is under Magical Britain jurisdiction, is it not?" She asked.

"Yeah, but you don't have to worry, there is an evacuation plan in case of emergency." Harry frowned.

"I have to go!" She said hastily, leaving the group and heading toward Saint Mungo, "You two, hunt for the artifacts!"

"Where are you going?!" Harry shouted over the howling winds.

"Don't worry about me!" Her voice said from afar.

"What is she on about?" Harry asked, looking at Ron uncomprehendingly. "Everybody will be evacuated anyways..."

"Everybody conscious anyhow, the procedure doesn't include people in comas..." Ron answered.

Then he understood.

"Tom..."

Ron nodded grimly.

* * *

><p>Hermione ran, ran and ran, through resting rooms, flights of stairs and empty rooms. She couldn't find his room. She saw the register, Room 402. It was empty. The only reason that could be the way was if... No, the thought was too hard to bear.<p>

There she found him, sitting in a resting room, lost in his thoughts.

"Tom!" She cried. She didn't know why she was so attached to him, he wasn't with her for her great adventures, but he offered words of comfort. Plus there was the time when...

He looked surprised to see her, and truly he was.

"Hermione?"

She grabbed his shoulders, "Magical Britain will soon fall."

"What...?" This wasn't going according to plan at all.

"Professor Dumbl... Professor Dumbledore has fallen," God the words were so difficult to say. She couldn't even bring herself to say 'died'.

Immediately, Tom brushed her mind. He saw images, images bringing him toward a certain physical condition. He grabbed the back of her head, and kissed her hungrily.

"What - are - *gasp* - you - *pant* - doing?" She asked, out of breath.

"What I should have done a long time ago..." He hissed hungrily, making her shiver.

He took her against a wall, on a table, on a chair, on the sink. It was like decades of pent up frustration were evacuated, the poor recipient being one Hermione Granger.

He conjured the image of Dumbledore dying when he hit the point of no return; the summum of irreverence.

The rotten apple does not fall far from the decaying tree, after all.

Chapter 5 - The End.

Damn the end was really poignant :')

Rate and review if you like/despise the story!

Note: Latin translations are as follows:

Tenebrae liberari non possunt si non sit voluntas = Freeing Darkness is not possible if there is no will.

Ego sum qui consumit tenebrae. Quia, Novissima autem inimica destruetur Mors. = I am the one who consumes Darkness. For, the last enemy that shall be destroyed is Death.

Tecum sentio = I agree / I am in agreement

Qualis pater talis filius = Like father like son

Qualis mens talis filius = play on words : Like mind like son? / Which mind such as the son? (In the sense Who has a mind as brilliant as the son)

There you have it; i'll try to translate the previous chapters' latin too! :-)

Most sincerely,

SaintNicolas


	6. Chapter 6- Annus Horibilis Era Mirabilis

Chapter 6 - TMR - Annus Horibilis, Era Mirabilis

"Again," A gruff voice ordered.

"Crucio!"

The poor boy in front of him contorted as pain beyond imagination assaulted his senses.

"Weak. This is how you do this. Crucio!"

If the boy thought what he had felt was pain, this was so much beyond that there was no possible way someone would withstand it more than two seconds. The spell fortunately was cut off.

"Practice until you reach that level. Don't forget that the Dark King's Crucio is not on this level altogether, and try to aim to that, even though you'll never manage it, you pathetic waste of flesh."

There were third year students practicing the most cruel of the Unforgivables.

Severus Snape paced in his office. What was done in Hogwarts was a mockery of everything the Founders stood for. He may be the Headmaster, but the one who truly owned Hogwarts, the so-called Dark King, was one of the Founders direct heir.

Two quick knocks interrupted his musings.

"Enter," He spoke coldly.

And in came the worried face of Minerva. She seemed quite pale.

"How many did we lose this time?" Snape's lip curled in disgust. She shook her head. She didn't come for that.

"We're holding the Sanguinae Rixam."

Snape's face lost colors too.

"The only... Good thing that will come out of it... Is that the torture practices will be held off until the 'Festival'," At this a pained expression came on his face, "is over."

Merlin, it could not happen. There was a reason this barbarous beyond belief practice had been banned centuries ago. It was a carnage for the sake of entertainment, inspired by the Roman's gladiator fights. Only a lot messier.

"What's the Monstrum?"

"A Nundu..."

All the students would die. However, only one was on his mind.

"Draco... I have to tell Narcissa."

The Malfoys were dining in their gilded home. Thankfully, all Death Eater activities had ceased here, being moved into a new Manor, the Dark Castle, at the center of Magical London.

They had a semblance of tranquility.

"Draco, come here,"

Obediently, Lucius' son came next to him. He elegantly put down his cutlery, of course.

"Father?"

"You do know why we're not in Hogwarts anymore?"

A bitter resentment came over him. Draco was technically still a Hogwarts students, only homeschooled. He did not know, however, of what was happening there. None of the Pureblood heirs did. They had withdrawn their heir upon learning of the new 'curiculum'.

"Of course."

"Next year you will be of age. Whom do you intend to marry?"

Draco's grey eyes widened; it was too soon. He hid it carefully though.

"I thought... You had to chose for me."

"It is true that when your mother and I married, we did not even know each other. It is the pureblood way of doing things. However, this isn't what we want for you. Consider it a... gift and an apology."

If Draco was not awake before, now he was wholly awake now.

"Apology?"

"I did not know." His father simply said, and told him to go to his room.

Severus came through the fireplace, dusting his robes off.

"Severus! How kind of you to join us-" He was interrupted by a rough huff from Severus.

"Not now. I have grave news... The Sanguinae Rixam will begin anew."

A choked sob escaped Narcissa; it was stronger than her. The only survivor of the Sanguinae Rixam was Merlin. That is how he was the only wizard people remembered.

Lucius' grip grew tight enough to bend the frail metal of his fork.

"Furthermore, every student's participation is mandatory."

"Lucius, we have to withdraw Draco from Hogwarts,"

Lucius shook his ashen head.

"Withdrawal has been forbidden since last month. Every desertion shall be dealt with by out King... Personally."

Tears streamed out of Narcissa's eyes; pureblood customs be damned. Her hands flew to her mouth as she contained more sobs.

Lucius would have cried too, but someone had to remain strong.

She ran to her son's room, not knocking - surprising Draco - and held her son.

"You poor, poor child," She rocked him back and forth.

Draco wanted to protest, but seeing his mother's state, he let himself be held. She put her hands through his hair, and she didn't know who needed comfort most; him or her.

She wanted to tell him it was going to be alright, but it would be a bald faced lie.

She only cried, sobs wracking her frame.

Leaning with his back to the closed door, silent tears streamed out of Lucius' eyes.

What had he done?

He had doomed his son for the sake of power; for the sake of a madman.

"Welcome to the most exciting event of the last decades - No, centuries! - the Sanguinae Rixam!"

The spectator cheered en masse, their feet tapping ancient beats on the terraces.

"Now now, I know you are excited, who isn't?" Lucius and Snape's lip curled in unison, while Narcissa's face grew colder, "But we must remain focused, otherwise we'll miss out on the fun!"

"The contenders are... Oh my, we can see the Hogwarts students arriving! Do us proud, little guys! There is the Durmstrang delegation, strong ones them... The Beauxbaton delegation has arrived too, look at them, proud as a peacock, this school!"

The spectator jeered and laughed at the slur directed against the French school. Other minor schools worldwide participated in what was sure to be a slaughter.

"The first round is... The Seven Trials!"

The crowd drew a collective breath. Then the dam was broken.

"Two hundred galleons none will survive!"

"Two thousand galleons only two will survive. We have a lot of strong challengers this year."

And so on and so forth.

"Now betting time is over! Let the show begin! The first trial is facing your greatest fear. Thanks to our King's generous offer, the students fears will be made real. Let the fight... Begin!"

The first student in line was confronted with a dragon. He was burned alive in under five seconds.

The second's greatest fear was his parents being tortured by the King Voldemort himself. He tried to intervene; he was blasted out of the arena by a wave of the dark wizard's hand.

The third strode forward purposefully. Nothing happened.

"Ah? There seems to be a malfunction in the spell; maybe all the magic was spent on creating our King?" No, it wasn't, but the presenter had do find an answer, else his head be served on a plate to the dogs.

"Interesting contestant." Voldemort commented, his eyes flashing in interest.

"True that. Might it mean that he had no fear?" Madam Maxime said slyly. The attack being 'He does not even fear you, Dark King...'.

A chuckle met her question.

"It would appear so. Then, shall I give him a reason to fear me?"

The two other headmaster's eyes widened when Voldemort rose from his seat and reappeared in front of the student resisting all fear.

"Ah, I should have predicted it," He waved his hand and no sound escaped their warded space, "The only two things I feared; Dumbledore and Death. With one dead and the other one not a concern, there is nothing to fear anymore."

A smug smile answered him.

The Dark King raised his hand again, and their private bubble vanished.

"If Thomas Flamel manages to disarm me, we will skip to the last phase; otherwise it is going to get one-sided, is it not?"

The spectators laughed uproariously. Disarming the most powerful wizard ever holding the undefeatable wand while not even having graduated from Hogwarts? Preposterous!

"You have heard it? The challenge issued by our King? We shall respect His wishes, and remain silent until the end. No bets are allowed."

The crowd was disappointed.

Narcissa, Lucius, Severus, and a handful of pureblood watched in growing interest as the man stood fearlessly, facing the Dark King. Even Severus would be trembling in his shoes; the man's cruelty when he played with his toy was beyond imagination.

He had not missed the fact that the student had no fear, though, and that intrigued him even more so that the student was Thomas Flamel. He had seen what had happened to his last living relatives.

"Begin!"

"Crucio." Voldemort sent Tom's way. Tom simply sidestepped it.

"Crucio!" The audience gasped at the audacity of the boy; surely this foolhardiness would not go unpunished.

The Dark King mirrored his younger self by sidestepping it. Then it was a mirror match.

"Bombarda Horibilis, Lex Sanguini!"

"Protego maxima, Avada Kedavra!"

"Avada Kedavra, Imperio!"

"Accio rock, transfigure mirror!"

As expected from his younger self, he was as strong as him. However he wasn't as experienced.

"Crucio!" He told, then grabbed his robe, having predicted where the boy would go to dodge it.

"Now I've got you boy."

"Have you?" Tom asked. Tom snapped his fingers.

A huge figure slithered at a fast pace. Slytherin's basilisk.

**"What are you doing, pet?" **Voldemort hissed in parseltongue.

But the beast was not answering to Voldemort. He was answering to the one who did not forget him; to the one who fed him.

Voldemort, seeing the situation, tried to disengage, but Tom was holding his hand.

"Release me at once, boy," Voldemort threatened. He would surely die, but as he had horcruxes, he would come back. The process would only be slow and painful.

"As you wish," Tom answered, releasing his hold on the Dark King.

The man dove to the right, narrowly avoiding getting eaten alive and digested by the beast. He missed the cutting hex on the back of his wand holding hand. His hand opened against his will.

"Accio Elder Wand." Tom had the Dark King's Elder Wand in his hand, twirling it leisurely. "I believe it's my win."

Voldemort watched uncomprehendingly, as flabbergasted as the crowd. The slowly a loud chuckle escaped him until it was a full blown laugher.

The crowd thundered at the impressive display of magic and skill.

Snape couldn't believe his eyes. Here was a Seventeen years old boy holding the Dark King's Elder Wand - that he obtained by disarming the man - pointed to the Immortal Man himself.

He gave it back to Voldemort.

"Marvelous! Simply marvelous! This is beyond comprehension, this display of might from both part, the surprise attack by Slytherin's beast, the finish!"

More roars.

The Dark King rose elegantly. Everybody got quiet, awaiting eagerly the man's next words.

"As promised, we will skip to the Monstrum Dominatum. Furthermore, I shall grant one wish to the victor. But only if he survives."

Voldemort's eyes flashed. With a twirl, he reappeared in the presidential booth.

"That was impressive,"

"Indeed, but do not forget your place. If you want to test your might against mine, I can assure you that you will lose."

"Of course," Madame Maxime's eyes gleamed mischeviously.

The Dark King hummed, sipping from his wine.

"Now, the moment everyone was awaiting eagerly. The Monstrum Dominatum! Bring the Monster!"

A chained Nundu was being dragged by a hundred wizards. Upon arrival, sensing the immense concentration of prey, it broke its bonds with a burst of strength. Then it snapped its huge jaws at a group of students, eating them alive. The wizards holding it captive had song since disappeared from the scene.

They were terrified beyond belief. It was impossible to fight that Monster. It exhaled its poisonous breath, corroding the skin of a few others who screamed in pain as they died.

Tom simply raised his hand and the Basilisk sped forward, driving his venomous fangs in its paw.

The Nundu roared in pain.

"Submit," Tom said, and in a burst of magic, the Nundu was forced into a subservient position. It tried to struggle, but Tom was too strong for it.

"Incredible! Unbelievable! The Nundu submits of its own will. Only half of the student body died! A world record!"

The spectators were too shocked to cheer. Then a clap came, then a second, then a thunder of clapping.

"But! I want everyone here to remember our King's words. The grants one wish to the Victor of the duel. What does the champion want?"

"A duel," Tom said simply.

"Against whom? A fellow student? A Death Eater? A Snatcher?"

Tom pointed at the presidential booth. The Dark King to be precise.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed.

He reappeared in a flourish on the arena ground.

"Boy, do not test your luck. I might have been gracious once, but this time, you will not have surprise on your side. I shall terminate your existence at once."

"Let the duel begin!" The presenter said shortly.

"Expelliarmus." Tom said simply.

"Foolish!" Voldemort spat.

Then, something happened which was unpredictable. The undefeatable wand came flying toward Tom's outstretched hand.

"Impossible..." The Dark King's eyes must surely be betraying him.

"You do know of the wand properties? Of course you do... The Owner is undefeatable. By Owning the wand, one means defeating the previous owner. You were the previous Owner. I defeated you in a duel. That's a simple calculus."

That little...! To become the owner, one has to take the wand without the previous owner's willingness. Tom gave him back his wand previously, and it was willing from him.

"What do you want?" The Dark King was not above bargaining, "Money, Lands, Women, a high ranking; perhaps Minister of Magic."

"Your head." Ton spoke quietly.

Three things happened in a very quick succession. First a wooden cross was raised from the ground. A barrier sprang, which stopped the Death Eater's attacks to save their Master. Then the Dark King was sent flying. He screamed when his hands and feet were nailed to the cross.

"You remember what you did to Nicholas Flamel and his wife? Of course you do," Tom spat. He was always good at acting. Voldemort watched him uncomprehendingly; then he dawned on him. The little bastard was trying to put the blame on him to justify his deeds!

"Listen you all! He..." The a severing charm cut off his tongue. He began to choke on his own tongue.

"That was for my Parents,"

Three figures stepped forward, removing the cowls masking their face.

Voldemort's eyes widened. Here were Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley.

"You are finished," Hermione spat.

"You have no more Horcruxes," Ronald was impassible.

"We have made sure of that." Harry spoke calmly. "And this was for mine; Avada Kedavra!"

Harry's spell hit the Dark King. Technically speaking, using the Unforgivable was perfectly legal. Voldemort's own law.

The Dark King's head fell forward, his body still nailed to the cross. The white crown fell from his head.

Tom bent down and picked it up, putting it atop his head.

" Annus Horribilis finita, Era Mirabilis et coepit!"

For the second time in two years, the whole Wizarding Britain kneeled before their King, but this time it was not of fear; but out of respect.

Little did they know what awaited them.

Oh, how little could Tom wait!

Chapter 6 - The End.

End of Book 1 - Era Horribilis.

Annus Horribilis finita, Era Mirabilis et coepit = The Horrible Year has ended, the Splendid Era will begin.

There you have it; the first piece of the Book of Tom Marvolo Riddle has ended!

You can tell me what you think of it if you want to; if you don't, well that's alright too! :)

I'll be marking it complete, since the main story as been resolved. There are still points being left open on purpose (Which student's fate will plague Hermione, Did they really get rid of Horcruxes?...) and they will be addressed in book 2.


	7. Book 2 - Prologue

The Book of Tom Marvolo Riddle - Book 2: Chapter 0: Prologue

* * *

><p>"And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy."<p>

_- King James Bible "Authorized Version", Cambridge Edition_

* * *

><p><em>The Dance of White and Black<em>, a fable by Gallineus Markspread. 

_There lived a Time when only Right amok ran,_

_Goodness and Evilness alike had no meaning_

_No Darkspawn; the World had only one Anchorman_

_A Time when only the Former had right of existing_

_But one day came a Dark entity_

_Spawned from the deepest pits of the Veil of Death_

_It was foul, twisted, full of enmities,_

_Its name Voldemort. In our tongue; Flight of Death._

_He destroyed the light, He devoured the Good,_

_Insatiable hunger, Greed beyond imagination_

_He destroyed the Beacon of Light for good,_

_And made of the World a pale imitation_

_Thankfully his reign knew a short life,_

_When, burning brighter than the Fallen Beacon_

_Like a White Knight, the scion of Alchemists arrived,_

_Putting an end to tyranny was his decision,_

_What motivated Him; was it Courage ? Greed ?_

_No wizard or witch know to this day._

_My head is thrumming with the pound of mead..._

_Thinking of what awaits us; Joy or Dismay..._

_Tis the Dance of Kings and Crowns, _

_Tis the Dance of Mice and Dark,_

_Tis the Dance of Grins and Frowns,_

_Tis the Dance of White and Black._

Tears left Minerva McGonnagal's eyes as she closed the book. The Beacon of Light had indeed been extinguished by Voldemort. Why was it, that only the Good perished while the Evil persisted? Lilly, James, Albus, felled by the foul.

Oh she could have hated the world for its fault, she could have been bitter and spiteful like former Snape was. However, right now, she was tired.

Too tired to deal with stories of Kings and Crowns. Too tired to think about White and Black.

* * *

><p><em>End of Prologue<em>


End file.
